


Bluebeard's Castle

by SmoakingGreenArrow



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Arrow out of Context, Because Joe is a stalker, Coffee Shops, F/M, Kidnapping, Locked in with a Killer, Obsessive Behavior, Quarantine and Chill Fic Drive (Arrow TV 2012), Stalking, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:28:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23334817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmoakingGreenArrow/pseuds/SmoakingGreenArrow
Summary: You (Netflix) AU: Joe meets Felicity and becomes obsessed. One night, while watching her apartment, he sees the vigilante sneaking out of her window. Believing he has to protect Felicity, Joe kidnaps and locks her in the book storage room. Of course, what Joe doesn’t realize is that the vigilante is Felicity’s boyfriend. And he’ll do just about anything to get her back.
Relationships: John Diggle/Lyla Michaels, Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Comments: 239
Kudos: 406





	1. A Perfect Fit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Three quick notes before you start:  
1\. The first chapter is written in first/second person, from Joe's POV. It just felt right to get inside his head a little bit. And much creepier this way! I know this sometimes tends to turn people off from fics, but I hope you'll still give it a chance. The rest of the chapters will be in third person, following Felicity and Oliver's perspectives.  
2\. I have one more chapter to write on this. I'd love to update as quickly as I can, so please leave me some kind encouragement in the comments ;)  
3\. If you've seen You, then you'll probably have an idea of what to expect from Joe. He's creepy, and psychotic, and does terrible things. For me, he is a character that I love to hate, so inserting him into Oliver and Felicity's life means that he is absolutely the villain here.
> 
> Also!!  
Arrow Out of Context prompt:  
Anonymous said: 10 please!  
“It was just going to be you against the world and that was going to be your armor.”
> 
> Quarantine and Chill Fic Drive prompts: Coffee shop, kidnapping, locked in with a killer  
Yes, there were bingo cards and I'm sure that I'm playing bingo completely wrong but it is what it is ;)

Edit by @preston-logan (tumblr) // @felicitvsmoaks (twitter)

* * *

People always underestimate how easy it is to fall in love. Maybe the idea of “at first sight” is a little bit overrated. But the hopeless romantics at least had one thing right. 

Life has moments.

When you see a girl in a crowded coffee shop, and she has blonde hair that glows in the warm morning sun, and you wonder for a split second if the smile on her face could be for you, your heart might skip a beat.

You might stop right in the middle of your dash to escape the morning crowd, and stare. Love at first sight may be too cliché, but there is something inside of you that comes to life when you see her. Something that _ sparks_. And no matter how much you wish you could ignore it, you just know. It’s a light bulb that goes off in your brain, urging every instinct in your body to approach her. 

_ Hello, you... _

But, you’ve never seen her here before. Oh, no…you would have remembered. Because noticing her means that you know she’s someone special. Someone different. She stands out like a bright burst of red in a colorless world.

She’s dressed like a successful businesswoman in her black skirt and heels, but she has no problem showing off her legs, the tight pull of the fabric against her backside that accentuates her curves perfectly. And she has an adorable pair of glasses on her face, but the multiple piercings in her ears suggest that she is probably not as shy and innocent as first glance might imply.

All of a sudden, she’s standing in front of you. And everything just kind of stops. Time stops. The movement and noises around you stop. It’s just her. 

This must be what people mistake for that silly “love at first sight” idea...

“Hi,” she says, cocking her head to the side and looking up at you curiously. “Um…”

It’s only then that you return to reality. Only then do you realize she’s waiting for you to move, because you’re standing directly between her and the counter, and she’s just trying to place her order.

Shaking your head to clear it, you apologize under your breath, stepping out of her way. 

She gives her order; a tall maple latte with almond milk. The barista asks for her name, and you hear her sweet voice answer.

_ Felicity. _

You know that you can’t do this again. Starling City was your fresh start. But your fingers are already itching to pull out your phone and search. And you can’t stop yourself from thinking… _ how many Felicity’s could there be in Starling? _

* * *

Felicity Smoak. Graduated at the top of your class. MIT, no less. Brilliant owner of Palmer Technologies, soon to be Smoak Tech. Your business endeavors made you easy to find. The entire town is proud of the woman who created a spinal implant that has the potential to heal paralysis.

_ Wow. _

I knew you were smart, Felicity. But I had no idea you were on a _ genius _level of smart. 

Over the past week since we met, I’ve learned a lot about you. 

Maple lattes aren’t your usual order. It must have been a whim that day, because every day this week you’ve come into the same coffee shop and ordered a regular iced coffee. It’s probably the most plain thing about you, from what I’ve seen so far.

I also learned that you’re only on this side of town because you’re sponsoring a rehabilitation clinic. Some of the patients are receiving physical therapy thanks to the implant you created. It’s all over the news. And I’ve heard you on the phone most mornings, discussing your ideas to help.

I have to say, I’m impressed. The passion for your work is refreshing. I’ve never met anyone quite so extraordinary. 

The thing that intrigues me the most about you, though? You’re_ good. _ Selfless. I can tell that you have a big heart. Clearly, I’m not the only person in this city who can see how special you are. But that’s what makes me feel so drawn to you. 

You’re not the kind of woman to hide things...are you, Felicity? You wouldn’t keep secrets from someone you love. You know who you are. And I have to admit, it’s a little bit intimidating. Your confidence. The strength that I could sense in you ever since I first I saw you. People don’t step on you because you would never let them.

After the last few months I had in New York, I could use someone like you in my life. No drama. No bullshit. No toxic lies or insecure mind games. Trust me, I’ve been through all of that before, and I don’t want us to go down that road. Hopefully, I can tell you about it. And we would talk like two mature adults, discussing our pasts and how much we both have grown. 

Yeah, Felicity, I think I could tell you what happened someday. With her. Maybe, when the time is right, I’ll tell you all about Beck. 

Thinking about heartbreak...it does make me wonder about you. There are pictures of you all over the internet, Felicity. They weren’t hard to find. And the articles about your accomplishments are just as abundant. You grew up in Las Vegas, excelling through school until you left to study Computer Science at MIT when you were only sixteen.

You moved straight from Boston to Starling. And in everything I’ve found about you, there were no mentions of your family. You must not like to talk about them. So you did it all on your own. 

I admire your bravery, Felicity. How hard that must have been for you to be alone through all of that. But you left home and never looked back. It was just going to be you against the world and that was going to be your armor.

Everything about your rise through Palmer Technologies, as well as your plans to create your own company on the back of your well-earned qualifications, has been reported on and debated at length by every news source in Starling. 

But as far as your social life?

Crickets.

The coffee shop is quieter today than usual, so I hear it when the door chimes with your entrance. 

Today’s skirt is blue, with a silk, floral shirt to match. It’s a new color to see on you, but the outfit suits you just as perfectly as the last six days I’ve watched you walk through that door, your trademark high heels in place.

You approach the counter with ease, a friendly smile on your face as you place your order. And I can’t help but wonder again, for the hundredth time in the past week..._ how did you spend your night, Felicity Smoak? _

Wait. No. 

Looking you up on social media was one thing. Reading about a popular businesswoman in my new city was harmless. Fate brought us both to a random coffee shop at the same time. Continuing to go there, where I knew you’d be each morning, doesn’t mean that I was falling back on old habits. It just meant that we both enjoyed coffee, right? 

I won’t let things get out of control this time, Felicity. What happened to _ her _was an unfortunate turn of events. That won’t happen to you.

We haven’t even spoken. It’s not like I’ve followed you home. I haven’t invaded your life. And I won’t. I promise, Felicity. 

Not unless you ask me to. 

“I love that book.”

Glancing up from the pages in front of me, I saw you standing mere feet away. You fidget with your coffee cup in one hand, using the other to gesture at what I was so believably pretending to read. “Oh yeah?” 

It took everything I had not to throw my fist up with a triumphant cheer. But I played it cool. I wasn’t trying to scare you. Although, I already knew that you loved _ Ozma of Oz _. You said so in an interview with a local magazine last year. “It was my favorite book growing up,” you told me with a smile. “My mom used to read it to me every night. Until I was old enough to read it to myself, of course. God, I’ve probably read it a thousand times.”

“It’s one of my favorites,” I answered, tapping the cover as I leaned closer to let you in on a secret. “And this...is a first edition.” 

The way your eyes widened with a childlike interest was incredibly endearing. “Wow, that’s impressive. My copy was a hot mess. Embarrassingly overused, notes in the margins,” you laughed. “I was awful, but I couldn’t let go of it. I lost it years ago during my move to Starling.” Your shoulders slumped with a long sigh, lips turning down in a pout. “Anyway, sorry to bother you! I’m told that I tend to babble.”

I shook my head, because you’re no bother at all. And frankly, I was kind of surprised at how willing you were to strike up a conversation with a complete stranger. “I’m Joe.”

“Felicity,” you beamed down at me, your smile wide as you thrust your hand out.

Of course, I took it, touching you for the first time. “It’s nice to meet you.”

You actually_ blushed _, Felicity. Interesting. “You too.” Raising your cup, you took a step back from the table. “Well, I should get to work. Have a nice day, Joe.”

_ That’s it? _

“Wait!” My mouth moved before I could stop it. “Uh…here.” The next thing I know, I’m holding out _ Ozma of Oz _to you. And you stared back at me as if I spoke an unfamiliar language. 

Well, nothing left to do but buckle down. “Take it...you said you lost yours?”

“You want me to have your first edition of _ Oz? _ ” Of course you think that’s weird. Offering valuable, expensive objects to total strangers is _ weird. _But didn’t you flirt with me first, Felicity?

“Uh, I actually own the book store down the street,” I said. Which was true. “I have a few editions of it.” Which was _ not _true. “The man who gave them to me collected them.”

“I have enough copies,” I insisted, because you were staring at me like I was crazy. “He wouldn’t mind if I gave you one,” I added with a roll of my eyes. “It’s no problem, really. I think he would appreciate a piece of his collection going to someone that will take care of it.”

You still looked at me with slight suspicion in your eyes. But you took the book. “Thank you. That is really nice of you.” 

And Felicity...I guess all I needed was a sign. When my fingers brushed against yours as I handed over the book, I had it. Every roadblock in our path seemed to fade away. “All right,” you smiled, cradling my book against your chest. “I should really get to work. I’m sure I’ll um…see you around. Apparently we both really like the coffee here. Or maybe I’ll have to check out your store some time. I love buying new books, even though there are never enough hours in the day to read them, which is just tragic, right? Uh, anyway, thank you again for this one. I—I promise I’ll make time to read it a thousand more times.”

“No problem, Felicity. See you around.”

I meant to watch you go. I told myself to move on, leave it alone, before I fell down another rabbit hole and took you with me. But I suppose, in the name of being a better person, I should try to be more honest. I want to be honest with you, Felicity. In that moment, we connected. And I knew there was no way I would be able to let you go.

* * *

The coffee shop was our mutual spot. Our shared space. I felt confident that I’d see you there again eventually. Or maybe, you really meant what you said and I’d see you come walking through the doors of my bookstore someday.

Unfortunately, I wouldn’t be able to wait and find out. Because I couldn’t wait to see you again.

Smoak Tech wasn’t exactly the hardest building to find. Even in a new city, all I had to do was find an address for the company and then look for the glowing blue sign with your name on it. That part was easy enough. But I knew I couldn’t just walk through the doors and go looking for you.

Luckily for me, you work across the street from a diner with a staff that keeps coffee refills coming and doesn’t ask questions of a guy sitting and looking out the window for nearly eight hours. And they have really good pie. 

You didn’t leave your office all day. I was sure of it because I knew which car in the parking lot was yours. But as it started to get dark, I worried that I had missed you.

I was getting antsy by the time I looked up again and saw you on the sidewalk in front of Smoak Tech, heading for your car as you waved goodbye to the employees you’d walked out with.

I’m not exactly proud of what happened next, and I am sorry for it, Felicity, truly… But I couldn’t stop myself from succumbing to an old habit. They die hard. And the next fifteen minutes moved easily and effortlessly. Like riding a bike.

I hurried out of the restaurant while you went to the parking lot and got in your car. Slipping into my own, I waited with my head ducked under my hat until you drove passed. Then I started my car, and I followed you home. Not too close that you would see me. And not too far away that I would risk losing sight of you. 

I watched as you slipped into a free spot on an unfamiliar downtown street, and I did the same, keeping my distance.

With my heart in my throat, I slid down behind the steering wheel as you got out of your car. You adjusted your purse on your shoulder and locked the doors, moving towards one of the townhouses. 

You walked quickly, your keys gripped tightly in your fist while your eyes swung from side to side. You looked nervous, anxious to get inside. It made me wonder if you could feel my eyes on you, or if there was something else you were afraid of.

I waited a few minutes, and then I started to walk, getting closer until I found cover under one of your neighbor’s trees. 

Hiding in the shadows outside of your house was never the plan with you, Felicity, but I had to know more about you. Someday, I hoped that we could laugh about this. You’d think it was charming how much I cared about getting to know you. We would tell the story to your friends; how I spent the day in that diner, waiting for my moment for our paths to cross again. And how it inadvertently led to me looking up at your townhouse’s windows, watching as you walked through your space, a glass of wine in hand.

So you _ do _know how to relax… Good to know.

Over the course of a week, I realized that you were the kind of woman who liked to be busy. Always moving. So, considering it was a Friday night, I expected to watch you leave your home as quickly as you came. I wondered if I would have to trail you to a bar, or some night club. And if I did, who would you be meeting there?

I pondered all of it as I watched, waiting to see you again. 

So, I was surprised when, a while later, you walked by the window wearing a black silk robe. The glass of wine in your hand was half empty, and you didn’t look like you had any plans.

Honestly...it brought a smile to my face.

I was ecstatic to know that for all of the power you walked with in those high heels every day, when the sun went down and the weekend rolled around, you could unwind. Take care of yourself. Maybe soon, you’d even be letting _ me _ take care of you. I couldn’t see much of your apartment, but it was easy to imagine; you in that robe, sipping on your glass of red as I rubbed your feet. Maybe you’d be reading _ Ozma of Oz _, or something else you’d picked out from the book store that day.

My daydreams got carried away. Lost in thoughts of you. I had no idea how long I’d been leaning against that tree, hoping for another glimpse.

Movement near your backyard caught my attention, a shadow slipping across the grass. And that was when I saw him. A man in a green leather suit with a hood pulled up was climbing out of your bedroom window, sliding it shut silently before running away from your townhouse. He stuck to the shadows like a criminal fleeing the scene of the crime, too focused on his escape to notice me.

I knew this was a strange city. I’d seen the headlines about “The Arrow” running around the streets, terrorizing or protecting them, depending on who you asked. But I lived in New York City; a place full of kooks, let’s be honest. I didn’t think much about Starling’s “vigilante” until I saw him sneaking out of your window that night.

_ Oh no. _

_ Did he hurt you? _

My reaction to that thought was instinctive. And a mistake.

I moved without reconsidering a single step, running towards the window that psycho had just jumped out of. 

Surely, you’d be able to overlook my indiscretion. You were in trouble. You needed my help, so you would be willing to forgive me for following you home, right? Damn it, I hoped so.

God only knew what the man could have done while you were unaware and vulnerable. 

He’d been inside your_ home_, Felicity. _ He _ was the intruder. He was the _ threat_. Not me. And I’d be damned if I wasn’t the one to save you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think :)


	2. Believing in Fairytales

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arrow out of Context prompt #11:  
“I love how playing superhero is what we consider normal.” 

Edit by @olida_magda (twitter) // @magda1102 (tumblr)

* * *

“Hi, honey. How’d the meeting go?” He answered by the third ring. He always did. 

Her boyfriend was reliable that way. Stable. Wild in one hundred other ways, that was for sure. But not when it came to their relationship. When it came to _ them_, he’d been serious from the beginning. And when it came to her, he didn’t mess around. It was one of her favorite things about him.

Felicity sighed as she started to drive away from Smoak Tech, heading straight home with no plans of stopping. “Better than I expected,” she answered with a shrug, keeping her hands on the wheel. “I can’t wait to liven up those stuffy board members though. If any of them decide to back out as investors, I honestly don’t think I’d cry about finding new ones. Ones with _ souls_, perhaps. I want the people working with me to be compassionate, you know? And I mean really, that board is just a room full of rich, entitled old men. I don’t know how Ray put up with it for so long.”

“My offer still stands,” her boyfriend reminded her. “Queen Consolidated would be happy to help finance the clinic.”

“I know,” Felicity bit her lip. “I just think it would be—”

“A conflict of interest,” Oliver cut her off with a huff, already knowing what she’d say because he’s heard her opinion before. And she has heard his. They didn’t exactly agree on the topic. So rather than having the ‘is it morally acceptable for your significant other's company to endorse your business endeavor’ debate, Oliver changed the subject. “Did they at least listen to your proposal?”

Felicity smirked to herself, his voice filling the space of her car. “Oh, yes. Some of them stared at me as if they were realizing for the first time that people with vaginas can also have brains. But I made sure they listened.”

“That’s my girl,” Oliver replied. She could hear the smile in his voice. The pride. And she shook her head, wishing she could see the crooked, amused tilt of his lips, if only so she could kiss the expression off his face. 

“Please tell me you’re at my apartment,” Felicity groaned.

“I am. Just walked in. John sent me home with tacos for dinner, I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh,” Felicity let out a satisfied breath. “You know I’m always down for Lyla’s chicken tacos. I’ll be home in ten minutes.” 

“All right, drive safe.” 

Felicity nodded even though he couldn’t see it, warmth filling her chest. She secretly loved whenever Oliver referred to her townhouse as _ home_. He’s said it a few times, and he still hasn’t seemed to notice when he does it.

“I will. See you in a few.”

“I love you.”

Another reason she was head over heels in love with her boyfriend? Ever since the first time he said the words, Oliver never hesitated to tell her that he loved her. Even when he knew he’d see her in a matter of minutes.

“I love you, too,” Felicity whispered back, the words ringing just as true and just as sincere as his.

* * *

Felicity was a little breathless by the time she got inside the house. She pushed the door open quickly, after walking faster than usual to get across the street, knowing that Oliver was on the other side of it. That _ safety _was on the other side of it. 

Tucking her hair behind her ears, she glanced at him where he was standing in the kitchen, pulling containers that had all the fixings for Lyla’s tacos from a paper bag. Felicity huffed, catching her breath and shaking off the eerie feeling she’d noticed outside, causing her to hurry for the door.

“Hey,” Oliver looked back at her, his eyebrows furrowing as he took in her flushed cheeks. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Felicity shook her head to clear it. 

She worked with the city’s vigilante. She _ slept _with the city’s vigilante. It gave her a right to be a little paranoid sometimes. Not that she would ever tell Oliver how creeped out she got on those dark nights, feeling like there was a pair of eyes watching her the whole way. Because he would only feel guilty about involving her in his crusade. And if he knew she was afraid, he would probably do something ridiculous like insist on walking her from her car to her front door every time she came home at night. “I’m fine,” she promised. Taking off her coat, then her shoes, Felicity tossed her bag onto the couch and made her way over to him. “Oh, I missed you so much today.” 

Oliver had worked late the night before, opting to crash at the loft he shared with his sister since it was closer to Queen Consolidated than her place across town. And then she’d been tied up with the board meeting, leaving John and Oliver to fend for themselves on a drug bust that night. She hadn’t seen him in almost two days, which was unusual for them...because things were going _ so _well. Relationship-wise. And vigilante-wise.

“I missed you too,” he wrapped his arms around her as she stepped into his space, forgetting about the food for a moment.

“How did things go with John tonight?”

“No problems,” Oliver told her, “the SCPD will be busy, though. That operation had thirty men behind it.”

Felicity frowned, “that’s twice as many as we thought there were.”

Shrugging in response, Oliver leaned down to kiss her. It was soft, his mouth moving against hers slowly, his lips wrapping around her bottom one like he _ so _loved to do. But Felicity pulled back, resisting the urge to deepen the kiss. “You and John still went in? Even though you weren’t expecting that many guns?”

“All thirty of them were taken into custody, honey.” Oliver smiled, rubbing his nose against hers. “Dig and I had it under control.”

She knew she was pouting already, and that he could tell, but Felicity still gave him her best disapproving look. “Still...I wish you would have called me. I would have left the meeting to help.”

“I know you would have,” Oliver mumbled, pinching his lips together. “But you didn’t have to. I _ do _need you, Felicity...behind that keyboard, in my ear every night. And I promise...I would ask you for help. If you’re in a meeting and I’m in over my head, I will always call you to come save me.”

Letting out a deep breath, Felicity wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tight as she buried her face in his chest.

She was fully aware that her anxiety stemmed from her own fear of not being there if, god forbid, something ever happened to him or Dig. Even though they’d been working together for a few months before she came along, Felicity _ hated _the idea of one of them getting hurt because she didn’t have their backs out there. If there was ever a threat that she didn't see coming, and one of her boys paid for it. 

Those fears will live inside of her for as long as their little team works together. She knew it and the boys did too. But Oliver had such a way about quieting that voice in her head, calming her with soft-spoken words and a patient kiss to her temple. “Good answer,” Felicity whispered into his chest, closing her eyes. “You know...I kind of love that these are the things we talk about. It’s Friday night and we’re discussing your raid on a drug operation.” She scrunched her nose up at him, shelving her fears for now. He was fine. John was fine. Everyone was safe. “I love how playing superhero is what we consider normal.” 

It felt so good. Just to be with him, his arms holding her in a warm embrace, his familiar smell on his shirt while the steady beat of his heart filled her ears. It felt _ so _good.

“Come on,” he said after a few moments, gently gliding his fingers down the length of her spine and back up to her shoulders. “Let’s eat.”

They shared their meal on the couch, only bothering to turn the lamp by the table on so they could see their food. She slid close as they ate in peace; Felicity giving him more details about the progress with the clinic and Oliver filling her in on how Thea was doing with her new job at QC.

When they were done, Oliver picked their plates off the coffee table and got up. “Why don’t you go start a bath?” He suggested. “I’ll clean up.”

The man was truly _ unreal_. Shaking her head, Felicity watched after him as he moved through her apartment like he belonged there. And god, she wanted him to. He spent so much time there already. Most of his clothes lived in her dresser, anyway. Felicity didn’t want to ask where he'd be sleeping every night. She didn't want to discuss whether or not he’d be at her apartment when she came home. She wanted to _ know _that he would. 

When she'd given him a key, Oliver had smiled at her so brightly...Felicity couldn’t help but wish they would just make it official. But she wasn't sure how he'd react if she made the suggestion. Part of her was afraid that it would be too much. Or rather, that _ he would think _ it was too much. Too soon.

They already spent so much time together, to the point that one day without him made her miss him like crazy. What if he liked having the loft with Thea? A safety net to fall back on in case they don’t work out? A place to run to if they fight?

_An escape route._

Oliver had never given her any reason to think this way. He wasn’t perfect, especially when they first met, but it wasn’t fair to put him in a box with other men who had abandoned and disappointed her. He was so different from _ that._

Felicity let her thoughts carry her down the hall and into her bedroom, discarding her clothes in favor of a bathrobe. Then she moved into the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub, waiting for the water to warm while she sipped on a glass of wine.

Once she added her favorite scented bubbles, Felicity climbed in, lowering herself into the water gingerly. 

She closed her eyes, exhaling as she sunk lower, her body covered by the bubbles. As always, she left the door open, a welcome invitation for Oliver to join her.

And after a few minutes of silence, she heard his footsteps as he came into the room.

With his presence looming above her, Felicity sighed, keeping her eyes closed. Lifting one foot out of the water, she slowly brought it down to the edge of the tub. She wiggled her toes in the air, letting her other knee fall open, hitting the other wall of the tub. And as she spread her legs wider, she heard his breath catch. “Are you going to come in, or just watch?”

The smile on her lips faded when he didn’t reply.

Felicity opened her eyes, looking up to where she could feel him standing above her.

Oliver’s eyes were dark, his attention focused on the leg she had hanging over the ledge, slow drops of water falling from her toe, hitting the towel on the floor below. 

Raising an eyebrow, she lifted her foot again, exposing more soapy skin to his heated gaze. “Well?”

His eyes darted back up to her face, and he clenched his jaw. “John called. I have to go see Detective Lance.”

Felicity leaned forward, her heart jumping in her chest. “Why? What happened? Let me just get dressed, I'll come with you.”

He leaned down to touch her leg, his thumb rubbing over her wet calf as he recognized her concern. “No, you stay,” Oliver whispered. “Nothing's wrong. I guess the police are having trouble identifying all the men from the drug bust.” He sighed, “Do you still have the files you collected? Dig and Quentin are hoping it can help.”

“Yeah,” Felicity nodded. “It’s all at the bunker, but I kept a hard drive just in case. Top drawer of my dresser.”

Nodding once, Oliver moved out of the bathroom and down the hall. She listened as he opened the drawer, closing it once he had the drive. And then she heard him opening his duffel bag to get his suit. 

Detective Quentin Lance was an ally of theirs, but he didn’t know Oliver’s true identity, which meant that one of them would use the voice modulator to speak to him on the phone whenever he reached out for assistance. But sometimes, if he needed something face to face, such as a hard drive full of incriminating evidence, then it meant Oliver had to put on the hood.

A couple of minutes later, Oliver walked back into the bathroom, fully dressed in his suit but with the hood still down. Felicity glanced up as he approached, her heart fluttering at the sight of him. 

It wasn’t something she thought she’d ever get used to; seeing him in her space dressed as The Arrow, his hood drawn back, his face clear of worry...because she knew his secret. Because he’d trusted her with it and asked her to be a part of his life in more ways than one. It still kind of took her breath away.

_This was their life._

And then he leaned over, each of his gloved hands gripping the edges of the tub as he stared down at her. She tipped her head back, meeting his eyes evenly. He let out a deep breath. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

Felicity nodded as he lowered himself closer. “Twenty minutes,” she breathed back just as he pressed his mouth firmly to hers. 

Oliver groaned, drawing his lips to her cheek, then down to her jaw, and back up to the corner of her mouth. They both knew that Lance was probably pacing on a rooftop somewhere, waiting for The Arrow to deliver him a closed case, but Oliver lingered for another moment anyway. “Don’t fall asleep before I get back,” he said lowly. “I’m not done with you.”

“Ohhh,” she hummed back, liking the sound of that. “Take the window on your way out,” Felicity whispered against his lips. “You know Mrs. Harris next door is nosy. We don’t need her catching The Arrow using my front door like some kind of gentlemanly boyfriend.”

Oliver smirked as he leaned back, standing straight and pulling his hood into place. “I’ll make you breakfast tomorrow, like the _ gentlemanly boyfriend _that I am...after we finish what I have in mind for tonight.”

“Mmm...as long as the _ gentle _part waits until morning.”

He groaned again, dropping back over her for another kiss. And Felicity smiled against his lips, reaching up to give his hood a slight tug. “Now get out of here...but hurry back.” Felicity’s wet fingers slipped beneath the leather, holding his face between her hands as she kissed him once more.

On instinct, she started to lean into the luke-warm water, mindlessly drawing Oliver closer, pulling him on top of her.

Before she got him soaked, Felicity felt his hand land on her shoulder, stopping her from pulling him right into the tub. Then it slipped behind her neck, his leathered fingers gripping the nape as he opened his mouth for her. And he moaned, the sound frustrated as his tongue slid against hers.

It wasn’t like he was going very far. He’d only be gone for twenty minutes. She just meant to tease him about it...but _ teasing _had a tendency to turn into serious, needy desire with the two of them. 

Felicity shivered when his hands finally left her. The look in his eyes was fervid as he stared down at her. “Should I have John tell Lance I can bring him the hard drive tomorrow? You're making it _very_ hard to leave right now.”

Letting her hands fall back into the water, Felicity bit her lip, hesitating as she thought about it for a moment, seriously considering it. And then she shook her head. 

They didn’t have any plans tomorrow. Felicity knew he’d be up with the sun if he waited, wanting to meet Detective Lance before the rest of the city woke up. She would rather wait twenty minutes for him to do it now, if it meant getting a rare, lazy morning in bed with him tomorrow. As Felicity glanced back up at Oliver, it seemed so obvious that he could read her mind. She sunk lower into the water, hiding her body beneath the bubbles that were quickly disappearing. “Go,” Felicity decided, raising an eyebrow at him.

Oliver nodded once, pushing back from the tub and moving towards the door. “I love you,” he stopped himself at the doorway, throwing her a crooked smile on his way out.

"I love _you_."

And...he was heading for the front door. “Wrong way!" Felicity called after him, rolling her eyes. "Go out the window! Remember?"

“Right!” Oliver turned quickly, passing by the bathroom doorway again, striding towards her bedroom instead.

Felicity giggled, yelling, “I love you!” again, loud enough for him to hear.

As silence filled her home a moment later, Felicity realized that her bath had gone cold.

She stood up, drying off and then slipping her robe back on. She let her hair down, looking at herself in the mirror while she pulled a brush through it and put it back in a bun. 

Being alone in her apartment only made her think about how much she wanted Oliver there with her. Permanently. “Maybe tomorrow,” she mumbled to herself, giving her reflection a shrug. 

Tomorrow...they would have time to talk, to have a real conversation about moving in together, about the next step in their relationship. Because _ god,_ she wanted to take that step. All she needed to do was build up the courage to bring the idea up, somehow knowing that it would have to be her.

Walking into the kitchen, Felicity refilled her wine glass, taking her time as she leaned against the counter and brought the glass to her lips. She wanted to go curl up in bed, but thought it might be better to stay on her feet until Oliver got home. If her head hit her pillow, she probably wouldn’t open her eyes again until morning. 

With a sigh, Felicity picked up her wine glass and took another sip. 

They needed to talk about it. _ She _needed to talk about the possibility of them living together. But there was no point in stressing herself out about anything now. 

Tomorrow...she’d put on her big girl pants and_ just ask _ him how he felt about it.

They were adults. She could be brave. Just because he'd literally ran for the hills when his ex-girlfriend suggested living together...didn't mean she had to be afraid of that happening...right? He was different now. They were _both_ different people now. They were _adults_. 

Adults who loved each other very much and were ready for this step.

Felicity nodded to herself. It was happening._ Tomorrow._

She sighed, taking a bigger sip of her wine.

A noise down the hall caught her attention, breaking her train of thought, and Felicity instantly turned towards her darkened bedroom where it came from. She paused, wondering if she’d imagined it, but then she heard the distinct sound of the window sliding shut.

Felicity smiled, pushing off the counter to follow the noise. It'd only been a few minutes, and she assumed that he must have forgotten something. “Hey,” she called out to Oliver, fully prepared to tease him if he’d actually left the house without the hard drive. “Did you forget—” 

She stopped dead in her tracks, noting first...that the figure in her bedroom was definitely _ not _her boyfriend.

The man rocked on his feet as he hovered in the threshold, looking like he was ready to bolt, but Felicity had no idea if that would be towards her or back out of the window he’d just slipped through. 

There was only the dark, now terrifying hallway between them. Him at one end and her at the other.

Felicity's mind raced while her heart crashed in her chest. But her feet remained frozen, stuck to the floor.

The way he stood there, his face in the shadows but his wide eyes clearly on her... She wondered briefly if he had meant to rob her or something...not realizing that someone was home. 

But the thought quickly left her brain, new thoughts taking over as she stared back at him. How quickly could she reach one of the kitchen knives from the block on the counter? Should she scream? If he _ was _the world’s worst burglar, would that scare him away?

“Felicity.”

He said her name, his voice vaguely familiar.

And it was then that dread overtook her, terror rushing through her veins.

This wasn’t random.

She forgot everything she’d just been thinking about. Her brain was completely blank. Adrenaline hit Felicity hard and fast, her body taking control as her wine fell from her fingers and crashed to the floor.

And then she ran. 

Felicity’s feet moved straight for the exit, her instincts somehow knowing that her best chance of survival right then was to escape. The moment he said her name, her mind turned off. Something snapped. She didn’t rationalize or weigh her options the way she could when she was behind the keyboard and it was John or Oliver that needed saving. 

It was a fight or flight response. And her body chose flight.

She reached the door in four long strides, even had her shaking hands on the doorknob to yank it open, ready to run...but then he grabbed her...and Felicity screamed.

“Shh, shh,” the man’s frantic voice came from behind. “Oh god, oh shit, _please_. Please don’t scream,” He was pressed against her back, grabbing her hand to stop her from getting out. But she continued to scream, loud and terrified. “I’m sorry,” the man rushed in her ear. Even terrified, she could hear the anxiety in his tone. He was nervous. “Oh, _ shit! _I’m sorry. I'm sorry, Felicity.”

She felt his other hand grab her by the hair. And then her head forcefully collided with the door in front of her. And everything faded to black.


	3. Sharp Shivers

Arrow Out of Context prompt #15:

“What do you want?”

“Well, something I can’t have, apparently.”

Edit by @olida_magda (twitter) // @magda1102 (tumblr)

* * *

The apartment was dark when Oliver walked in. He sighed, trying not to feel disappointed that Felicity didn’t wait up for him. Silently slipping his shoes and coat off, he moved towards the bedroom. His girlfriend deserved a good night’s sleep after the week she’d had. They both did. And they had already agreed to spend the day together tomorrow. Nothing but the two of them for a Saturday with no distractions._ It was going to be amazing. _

Oliver frowned as he passed by the kitchen, narrowly missing the scatter of broken glass that was on the floor. He froze; his body, his instincts, zinging to life before his brain could catch up. A piece of glass glinted in the light. Oliver lifted his head, following the stream of light that made him notice the glass, finding the source in a streetlight outside of Felicity’s bedroom window.

A window that he had shut on his way out of her townhouse thirty minutes ago. A window that was now open, letting in an eerie summer breeze. The image of her curtains blowing in it made his heart stop. 

He would have never forgotten to close it.

She would have never gone to bed without closing it.

Oliver looked down at the glass again, his eyes adjusting to the darkness enough to help him see that there was a wine stain on her white carpet, underneath the shattered glass. 

“Felicity!” He instantly yelled, his heart jumping into his throat as he jumped over the mess, running straight for her bedroom. Between the broken glass and the open window, he was way past the point of staying calm. 

But still, even as he barreled into Felicity’s bedroom, there was a small part of Oliver that expected to see her sitting up in bed, her eyes widening with alarm while she peeked out at him from behind her laptop. And she’d be confused to see him so worked up. And she’d explain that she meant to clean up the glass in the hall, but had gotten distracted. And she’d chuckle at his overreaction, soothing his panic with a kiss that could calm every cell in his body.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t what happened.

Instead, Oliver found Felicity’s room empty. Her bed was still made, the space completely untouched. He swore he remembered seeing her phone on his way out, plugged in on her bedside table. But it wasn’t there, and that made him pause. 

He moved back through the apartment, his eyes analyzing everything and finding nothing out of the ordinary. 

Felicity’s jacket and purse were accounted for, the shoes she’d worn that day still sitting by the door where she had left them. When he stepped into the bathroom, he noticed that all of her things were in order, but the robe she’d hung from the door was missing.

If something had scared her, if she’d had to run, and if she still had the sense to grab her phone in the process...then why wouldn’t she have called him?

Nothing about the state of her apartment made sense.

Nothing was wrong, aside from the broken wine glass and open window.

With a knot in his stomach, Oliver pulled his phone out, utilizing her name on his speed dial that she’d been insistent on. It went straight to voicemail. He tried it one more time, getting the same result.

“Damn it!” Oliver huffed under his breath, feeling his chest tighten with more than concern. He was entering the territory of _ pure panic. _

In one way or another, Oliver had truly thought he considered everything when he decided to tell Felicity Smoak his secrets. The day he realized that he was falling in love with her, and allowed himself to continue falling, Oliver believed he was ready to take the risk. Because she was worth it.

But for a brief, dark moment, standing there in her empty apartment, he regretted that decision. Because with all the evidence in front of him, Oliver knew that there was only one answer left. And this never would have happened if he didn’t come into her life.

And there was only one thing left to do.

Diggle answered on the third ring, his voice hushed because he probably had a sleeping wife and baby close by. “Oliver? What is it?”

“Felicity is gone,” he heard himself respond. It didn’t feel like him though, the words and the reality somewhere far away. 

An insufferable silence answered from the other end of the line. But Oliver couldn’t find the words he knew he needed to say. “What do you mean _ gone _?” John asked darkly.

Oliver tried to pull himself back, to focus as if this was a nightly mission rather than the kidnapping of the love of his life. “I...I think someone took her.”

* * *

The first thing that registered in Felicity’s mind was a low buzzing noise, a gentle hum from the singular light above her head. The second thing that got her attention was the musky, potent smell filling her nose. Cold and damp. 

As she regained consciousness, she blinked her eyes open, inhaling and exhaling while her mind worked through the grogginess. 

For a moment, there was only the light bulb, wavering slightly as if it was caught in a draft, and that old, musty smell that reminded her of the clothes her grandmother used to store in the attic and never wear. She blinked, watching the light bulb swing, and wondered why she was waking up in her grandmother’s attic. 

Felicity pouted, knowing that the wheels in her mind weren’t turning fast enough as she tried to remember _ something _ that would help her to make sense of her surroundings.

And then her last memory came back to her. A dull pounding overtook her forehead as she remembered how someone had grabbed her hair and forced her head against the front door in her apartment. Hard enough to knock her out, apparently.

Gasping, Felicity sat up, and the pain intensified while terror set in. Her eyes shifted around the space, even more lost than before.

There was a carpet beneath her. A wall of books to her right. A brown leather chair in the corner with a lamp beside it. Almost as if she was in the library of someone’s home. That might have been her first assumption, if not for the glass that made up the walls. And beyond them, there was only darkness.

It reminded her of a museum display. It was a box. And Felicity quickly had the sense that there were eyes on her.

“What the frack?” She whispered to herself, her mind reeling for answers and coming up completely blank. 

On one of the glass walls, she noticed a handle, and instantly started to scramble across the small space to reach it. Felicity winced with the movement, her body objecting and her head pounding even harder.

When she got to the door, she used the handle to pull herself to her feet, standing on unsteady legs. Felicity pulled on the door, but it didn’t budge. She pulled again. And then she pushed. And then she completely panicked, yanking and shaking it as hard as she could. “What the _ fuck _?”

“Felicity?” She heard her name from a dark corner in the room, on the other side of the glass. “I’m so sorry I had to do this.”

She froze, instantly recognizing the voice. It was the last one she’d heard. And his apologies were familiar.

As the man stepped out from the shadow, Felicity didn’t breathe. She didn’t move. She just stared. His face was vaguely familiar, and it only took her a moment to place him. The guy from the coffee shop. The one who had given her the book. It took her another moment to remember his name, but the rest of her mind caught up quickly. 

This had nothing to do with Oliver. Or the Green Arrow. 

It was all about her.

“You’re Joe,” Felicity answered quietly, once she was certain that it was right. She had a feeling he’d be very unhappy if she forgot his name. “I remember you.” The effort it took to stay calm, not to scream, was exhausting. “Where am I?”

* * *

Oliver and John had turned the apartment upside down, looking for any kind of clue that might tell them where Felicity was. Going through her things felt a little bit invasive, but of course, it was entirely necessary. 

Not that it did any good. They were coming up empty.

He already knew where Felicity kept everything important. Any clues that could help them figure out what happened would be on her phone. Which of course, was nowhere to be found.

The best chance they had of finding a missing person was with Felicity’s skill. The exact dilemma that they were in, could be solved by what she brought to the team. The irony wasn’t lost on him. And it was incredibly frustrating to feel so _ helpless. _

John searched the kitchen, saying that he was looking for signs of the kidnapper. Although Oliver understood that he really meant signs of a _ struggle, _ and Oliver gravitated towards the bathroom. He flipped on the light switch, his eyes zeroing in on the bathtub where he’d last seen his girlfriend.

But he didn’t feel the same panic as when he realized that someone had taken Felicity. Or the dread that had crippled him when John came over and came to the same conclusion. Looking in at the porcelain, remembering the smile on her face just an hour ago while they’d said goodbye, Oliver felt focused.

But there was a dark thought that kept creeping into his head. A dark thought that was quickly becoming a darker promise with each passing minute Felicity was missing.

He was going to kill whoever did this.

* * *

“What do you want from me?” Felicity asked, her back straightening when Joe began to approach the glass.

She stood completely still, refusing to back down.

But he didn’t look like he was trying to scare her. He stopped when he reached the glass, staring up at her with wide, frantic eyes. To her surprise, Joe looked just as terrified as she felt. And there was no telling if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“I wanted to save you,” he whispered desperately. “I was only trying to _ save _you.”

Felicity unconsciously sucked in a deep breath, unaware that she’d stopped breathing completely until dark circles swam in her vision. “How?” She whimpered. “Save me from what?”

“The vigilante,” Joe answered seriously. He lifted his hand to the glass, pressing the tips of his fingers against the spot where she’d unknowingly been grasping the door. Instinctively, Felicity pulled her hand away like the glass had burned her. And she took a step back, retreating into the room and away from him. Everything inside of her _ screamed _that she needed to get away from Joe. But she was on display. There was nowhere to hide from him here.

Joe looked at her with remorse, “I’m sorry,” he told her once again. 

For a guy that had broken into her apartment, attacked her, and then kidnapped her, he sure did apologize a lot...

Weirdly, he sounded like he meant it. His eyes pleaded with her as if he meant it. And yet, if he meant it, then why the _ fuck _was she locked in a glass box?

“I saw him,” Joe raised his chin. “He was in your _ house _, Felicity. I didn’t know what else to do. I had to make sure he didn’t hurt you.”

Felicity blinked, trying to make the pieces of his words and this insane situation come together. 

Oliver had been over. And then he’d left out the window. Wearing the Arrow suit. Okay...but how the hell did Joe fit into _ any _of this? 

“You were watching my home?” She voiced it as soon as the thought crossed her mind. Felicity’s eyes narrowed, anger fueling her at the same time that her heart sank into her stomach like a rock. “For how long?” She demanded an answer, but the man on the other side of the glass did give her one. He just continued to look up at her with big, disgusting puppy dog eyes. As if he was begging for forgiveness but too much of a coward to admit what he’d done. 

And Felicity was _ pissed_. 

“How long...have you been watching me?” She growled through clenched teeth.

“You have to understand…” Joe whined. “If you knew the things that I know…” Shaking his head, Joe stiffened, his eyes hardening as he stared at her. “That masked freak...he’s dangerous. And he was going to hurt you. I know you’re scared, and confused right now. But I won’t feel guilty for protecting you, Felicity.”

She opened her mouth to object, to tell this asshole how wrong he was about whatever he’d seen while he’d been lurking outside of her house. There was nothing chivalrous about this. But then Felicity thought better, snapping her lips shut. If she admitted that she knew the Arrow personally, then it could lead to Joe figuring out that the Arrow was Oliver. “All right then…” Felicity said slowly. “You saved me. Now you need to let me go.” She kept her voice stern, steering clear of the vigilante talk.

Joe’s eyebrows pushed together, confused. And his annoying, punch-worthy head cocked to the side. “You aren’t concerned about your city’s biggest killer being inside your home?”

Felicity huffed in response, taking a moment to relax. Her eyes drifted down to her body, not recognizing the black sweatpants and Nirvana t-shirt she was wearing. She was in nothing but a robe when he’d come into the house.

God...he _ changed _her?

Felicity’s stomach rolled with another wave of disgust.

She sucked in a shaky breath, trying to keep her composure.

“Of course I’m concerned about the vigilante,” she spat. “But I’m a little bit _ more _ concerned right now about the guy who kidnapped me and locked me in this _ cage!” _

_ So much for composure. _

At her outburst, Joe’s face fell, disappointment etched in his features. “This isn’t a cage, Felicity. It’s a sanctuary. This library is where I learned all about the importance of books. It’s where my mentor and I repaired and saved them. Brought them back to life. I spent a lot of time here as a kid...not always by my choice, but, it was where I needed to be. And right now...I have a feeling it’s exactly where you need to be. So,” he let out a breath, giving her a shy smile that made a hundred violent thoughts cross her mind. “Why don’t you just relax? Read something?”

_ He could not be serious. _

Felicity’s heart sped as Joe began to back up, walking away from her. Leaving her alone. “Joe… Where are you going? You can’t just leave me down here. Hey!” She called after him. “Let me out of here!”

“I’ll be back, Felicity.”

Part of her wanted to stop him, terrified that he wouldn’t come back, that she’d be stuck until it was too late. But another part of her won out, telling her to keep quiet. Felicity stared after him, listening while he jogged up a set of stairs.

The door slammed shut behind him. 

Letting the silence linger for a moment, Felicity focused on taking three deep, calming breaths. And then she got straight to work.

* * *

“Hey,” Diggle called from the kitchen. Oliver came around the corner, looking at his partner expectantly. John raised Felicity’s purse above his head in one hand, and then offered a book towards Oliver with the other. “This was sitting on top of her bag. Have you seen it before?”

Giving him a strange look, Oliver shook his head. “_Ozma of Oz? _ I don’t think so...but Felicity carrying books around isn’t exactly unheard of.”

John sighed, dropping the purse onto one of the kitchen chairs and taking the book in both hands. “Right,” he mumbled, looking down at the thing. “This just looks...old and—I don’t know, valuable?” He flipped open the cover, studying it for a moment before his eyes flew up to Oliver again. “This is a first edition. It has to be worth a couple thousand, _ at least. _ You’re sure Felicity never mentioned anything about this?”

Oliver shook his head slowly, certain that they’d never talked about it. “Wait.” He examined the cover closer. “I think she told me once that this is her favorite book.” It was a brief tidbit of information, an offhand memory in passing. But he remembered that Felicity said it, if only because he had wanted to make a mental note of all her favorite things.

“Maybe she saw it in a store or something and had to buy it?” Even as Oliver suggested an answer, he knew it felt wrong. Felicity did what she wanted with her money, and she wasn’t exactly lacking it. He couldn’t say he understood her love for expensive shoes, but a book that expensive _ did _seem like the kind of thing she would have at least mentioned to him.

Oliver shook his head, adding one more piece to a puzzle that already made absolutely no sense. And the more time that passed, the more terrified he felt that she might be… He didn’t even want to think about it. “You think the book might have something to do with her...with this?”

“It’s possible. Oliver, listen man...I think we need to call for backup.” 

Oliver nodded once, knowing what he meant. “Call Detective Lance.”

* * *

Everything was off the shelves. She had entirely destroyed Joe’s little library and all of his precious books were scattered across the floor. But she couldn’t worry about how he would react. Felicity tore through everything she touched, searching for something that might help her escape. Her expectations were somewhere between hoping that he happened to hide a spare key inside one of the books, and trying not to think about what would happen if she died in a psychopath’s basement. She was dealing in extremes here. There was no way around it. 

The glass door locked from the outside, but it had a tiny slot screwed on. If she could find something to either break or unscrew it, then she might be able to reach her arm through and pick the lock. 

“And Oliver said learning how to do pick locks would be pointless,” Felicity mumbled to herself, recalling the day Oliver had walked into the foundry while John was giving her a lock-picking tutorial and rolled his eyes at them.

Felicity tried not to think about what John and Oliver were doing right now, how worried they must be. 

God, if she made it out of this alive, they were going to _ kill her _for accidentally befriending a stalker.

She especially tried not to think about how Oliver was probably blaming himself for everything since the moment they met to the moment he left her apartment that night.

And Joe, whoever the hell he was, was one twisted mother fucker. Even if he thought he was “saving” her, _ he _ knocked her out and trapped her in a _ box. _

A sane person may have called the police if they saw the vigilante climbing out of someone’s window. Or done anything, really, aside from breaking into said person’s house and kidnapping them. So his motivations were impossible to sympathize with at the moment.

“Come on, Felicity,” she whispered to herself. “You have to find a way out of this.” 

She stepped towards the steel bookcase, pulling on it as hard as she could, but the entire structure was bolted to the ground. That thing wasn’t going anywhere. But…

Felicity turned on her heel, an idea clicking in her mind. The lamp looked too light, but the chair might work for what she wanted to do.

Quickly closing the distance, Felicity tested the weight of it, debating if she was strong enough to lift it. To throw it with enough force to break the glass.

“I wouldn’t try that if I were you.”

Felicity jumped away from the chair with a yelp, shoving her hands behind her back as if she wasn’t about to try busting out of there, hulk-style.

Joe stood in front of the door, a brown paper bag in his hands and a hat over his head. His eyes moved across the destruction she’d caused, and then landed back on her. He sighed. “It’s bulletproof glass.”

“Why do you have a room made of bulletproof glass?” She shot back.

“It wasn’t actually mine,” Joe answered just as quickly. “Like I said before, I had a mentor who taught me everything I know about books. How to take care of them. This was where he did that.”

Felicity crossed her arms over her chest, considering his words. He had said that he spent time in this room when he was young...and not always on his own free will. “Your mentor…” she spoke cautiously, wanting to be civil with him if it meant she survived this. “He made you stay in here?”

Joe glanced up at her, a smile pulling at his lips for whatever reason. Felicity wasn’t sure why a conversation about locking someone in this place would amuse him, but this time, she forced herself to smile back, encouraging him to talk. 

“He would leave me in there for days,” Joe answered. “But in the end, it made me a better person. And I think it will do the same for you. I’m not stupid, Felicity. I realize that you’re more afraid of _ me _than the vigilante. Now that I had time to think about what I saw...it seems obvious, doesn’t it?”

Felicity shook her head, her back stiffening.

“You knew he was there. I told you that the infamous, murderous ‘Arrow’ was inside your house, that he could have attacked you tonight, and you didn’t even blink. You wanted me to let you go. You would obviously rather be out there. Which I realized must mean that...you _ know _ him. And given the fact that you were walking around in a robe, I’d have you say...you know him _ intimately_.” He paused. “Are you with him, Felicity? Are you _ his?” _

She stared at Joe, her lips shut tight. Did he want her to be honest? To admit it? Or was he looking for her to deny it? Would he even believe her if she did?

Knowing that her response to his accusation could mean life or death, depending on how _ sick _Joe really was and how he might react to the truth...Felicity chose to sidestep it, to continue skating on thin ice with Joe, rather than answering wrong and letting it break out from under her. So, she decided to ask a question of him instead. “What do you want?”

“Well,” he breathed. “Something I can’t have, apparently.”

Setting the brown paper bag on the door, Joe looked up at her. When he twisted the handle, the slot rotated, turning to the inside so that the bag was in front of her. “I brought you takeout.” And then he took a step back, muttering under his breath as he turned his back to her. “You might as well eat,” the words were barely audible, but Felicity caught them. “Since I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do with you.”

She didn’t touch the food. She didn’t dare to take her eyes off of him.

This place was literally built to hold a hostage. No locks on the inside. The turning table that prevented her from even getting a finger outside. Bulletproof glass. Whatever ‘library’ excuse Joe used was bullshit. This was a cage. And he’d thought of everything. 

A shiver ran down her spine, sending a sharp wave of panic through her whole body that in turn, made her forget her sense of reason. 

Her control snapped.

Whatever game of chess he had forced her into, Felicity couldn’t stop herself from flipping the board over. Quitting. Because she simply wasn’t capable of playing anymore. Not when even _ Joe _didn’t know how this would end.

“Help!” Felicity screamed, praying that someone, somewhere could hear. Joe jolted in surprise. “Help! Somebody help me!” She yelled at the top of her lungs, not knowing what else to do.

“Shh,” Joe rushed back over to her, that broken, panicked expression back on his face. “It’s okay, Felicity. It’s okay.”

“Help!” She hollered over him.

He slammed his palm against the glass. “No one can hear you!”

Felicity froze. 

Despite everything, she hadn’t seen him lose his temper yet. 

But as he did...the darkness in his eyes was _ terrifying. _

And then Joe sighed, pressing his forehead against the glass and looking up at her with those puppy dog eyes again. “Please don’t scream. It’s soundproof down here.” 

_ Because of course it was. _


	4. Prince Charming and Bluebeard

Anonymous said: Hello! #4 for out of context part 4 please please:)

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Just get the son of a bitch.”

* * *

“You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve,” Quentin Lance stormed into Felicity’s apartment as soon as Oliver opened the door for him. It was almost 4:00 in the morning, and every second that ticked by without Felicity, without an answer, without something he could _ do, _was driving Oliver crazy. 

Still, he quietly closed the door behind the detective. It would take time to convince Lance that he should help them find Felicity. And they didn’t have time.

Oliver was fully aware that there was only one way to get him on board _ fast. _

“What in the world would make you think it’s okay to call me in the middle of the night, Queen? You think I want to help _ you?_ After what you did to my daughters?” Quentin anchored his hands on his hips, his body tense as if he was resisting the urge to get in Oliver’s face. “It’s not my god damn problem if you finally damaged a girl enough that she ran far away from you.” Despite his complaints, Quentin showed up, so Oliver really didn’t have the patience to listen to the man let off steam.

“Felicity wouldn’t just leave,” Oliver growled, glaring daggers at the detective. "Something happened to her."

Quentin scoffed, blowing Oliver off. He turned to Diggle. “Listen,” he lowered his voice, “I know that I owe you a favor or two, but this is ridiculous. If you know this prick, then you know that pissing women off is basically his favorite past-time.”

With his arms crossed over his chest, John shrugged calmly. “Mr. Queen is a good man. And if he says something bad happened to Ms. Smoak, then I believe him.”

Lance’s eyes shifted back and forth between the two men. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he shook his head in disbelief. “Look, I only came down here because you asked, Mr. Diggle. We both know that I owe you that, but you can’t seriously expect me to help this jackass—”

“You owe me, too.” Oliver stepped towards Quentin, growing more and more agitated the longer that they _ weren’t _talking about how to find Felicity. 

“Oh, screw you,” Lance bellowed, “I don’t owe you a damn thing, Oliver!” He paused, controlling his temper as he looked to John. “Mr. Diggle, you can give me a call next time your _other_ friend needs something. Our deal is not for you to call in favors for your rich clients. Please don’t waste _ my _time on the scum that _you_ get paid to babysit again.”

Oliver rolled his eyes as Lance turned for the door, stopping him before he could reach it... “I’m the vigilante.”

The detective paused, narrowing his eyes at Oliver in complete disbelief. “What did you just say?”

Letting out a breath, Oliver shifted on his feet.

It wasn’t a secret that he ever planned to share with Quentin Lance. Since they had no idea whether it would end with Oliver in handcuffs or not. But the thing was…Oliver wasn't going anywhere in cuffs, regardless of how Lance reacted. He needed to find Felicity. And there wasn’t a doubt in Oliver’s mind that he would bulldoze anyone who stood in his way. Not when it was _ Felicity _at risk. “You’re going to help us find Felicity Smoak, detective. Because I’m the Arrow.”

* * *

There was no possible way to know the time in that basement.

Felicity guessed that she’d been in the glass room for about four hours. At least since she woke up. But she had no idea how long she’d been unconscious before that. 

Joe tried to talk to her a few times, but after their previous conversation, she’d decided that silence was her best option. He planned to keep her in there until she “grew from the experience” like he said he did as a kid… If that was the case, then they actually agreed on something: They wanted time to pass.

For Joe, that meant that he was wearing Felicity down. Weakening her. Making her susceptible, agreeable to whatever plan he came up with. She imagined that when Joe was a boy, being locked in this room by the man he’d mentioned, that this strategy worked. 

Which yes, absolutely made her skin crawl. But she wasn’t an innocent, terrified child like he had been. One way or another, she’d get out of there.

For Felicity, the longer she sat in that box, the more time she was giving Oliver and John to find her. The more time she was giving _ herself _to come up with a plan that wouldn’t get her killed.

Still, her legs itched to stand up.

Felicity’s whole body was buzzing with the need to _ do _something. To try to find a way out. Yet, it was as if she was in some kind of standoff with Joe, and she didn’t want to be the one to blink first. Clearly, she needed to tread lightly. He was a ticking time bomb, and she had no idea what could set him off.

Thankfully, Joe had eventually given up on speaking to her. For the past hour or so, he retreated to a table across the room, half covered in shadows. With his back to her, he’d been sitting in that chair, bent over the desk and focused on something. And even though Felicity couldn’t see what he was doing, she took the opportunity to do the only thing she could do.

Study him.

He was fidgety and nervous, even hours after he’d broken into her apartment. And very easily agitated by whatever he was doing behind the desk.

As she watched him, she couldn’t help but agonize over what caused this. Their conversation at the coffee shop had been nothing but that. A conversation. Innocent. She had approached him because he was reading _ Ozma of Oz. _ But the more Felicity thought about it, the more she slowly began to realize that his book choice was probably not a coincidence. 

Joe _ knew _ things about her. The way he spoke to her...it was as if he knew _ her. _And she realized that most likely, he knew what her favorite book was and had used it to grab her attention that morning.

Felicity had always been friendly. Kind to people she may not know. She’d always known that she was a people-pleaser. She could talk to almost anyone about almost anything, although that would often lead to her putting her foot in her mouth. But now, it would probably be a very long time before she struck up a conversation with another lonely-looking stranger.

“Damn it!” 

Felicity flinched as Joe finally broke their silence, shoving back from the desk and knocking his chair to the ground as he stood up. He turned, his eyes landing on her instantly as he wheeled towards her. And Felicity sat perfectly still, doing her best not to give him the slightest reaction.

But she recognized what was in his hand. 

“Why the hell is this so hard to get into?”

She kept her eyes on her cell phone, unsure how to handle Joe’s temper. “Because I made it impossible to hack.”

“Unlock it.”

Felicity hesitated, knowing that there was no way she could give him access to her work, her Team Arrow business, everyone she loved, her _ life. _There was way too much at risk. Fearing the fallout, Felicity clenched her jaw. “No,” she answered slowly through her teeth.

Annoyed, Joe raised his eyebrows. “Felicity. Unlock it.”

“Why?” She asked. “What do you need from my phone?”

Joe sighed, “I need to make sure no one is worried about you.”

“You need to make sure no one comes looking for me,” Felicity corrected quickly. 

She wasn’t about to tell him that Oliver and John already were. That would only make him panic. In Joe’s mind, the vigilante had left her alone for the night. He had no idea that Oliver had probably just missed this kidnapping, if he’d only been gone for twenty minutes, or that her boys would already be looking for her.

“You’ve given me no reason to trust you, Joe,” Felicity spoke carefully, biding her time. “Why should I give you access to my phone?”

He opened his mouth to answer, then closed it. He stepped closer to the glass, cocking his head to the side as he stared right through her. And once again, Felicity knew that she’d said the wrong thing. “Don’t play games with me, Felicity. I know that you don’t trust me. You won’t for a very long time. Not until you see that I only want what’s best for you.”

Steeling herself, she looked him straight in the eyes, her whole body still. “Are you what’s best for me, Joe?”

At that, her captor’s face broke. He stepped up to the glass, pressing his forehead against it as he stared back at her. And the look in his eyes was haunting. Pained and desperate. “I don’t know,” Joe whispered honestly. “Do you know who Bluebeard is, Felicity?”

“Yes,” she nodded slowly, trying to keep up with his random, pinball-like conversation. “He’s a man from a folktale...he would marry women,” she paused, fighting off a shiver as Joe watched her, unblinking. “And then they would go missing.”

“Bluebeard would murder them," Joe finished. "One wife after the next in a vicious cycle. He couldn't control himself.” Felicity froze while Joe released a long, shaky sigh. “I don’t want you to think that I’m some kind of monster like that. I promise,” he shook his head, his fingers gripping the glass desperately. “I _ promise _that I won’t hurt you, Felicity.”

It may have seemed crazy, but in that moment, she _ needed _to believe him… She wasn’t sure she could survive this if she didn’t. Which meant that she had to take a chance on her own life. She didn’t have another choice.

Nodding, Felicity stood up, her legs shaking as she crossed the small space to stand in front of Joe. Her little box was elevated from the floor he stood on, putting her a few inches above him, and Felicity used it to give herself courage, staring down at him.

“I believe you, Joe,” Felicity whispered. “But how long do you plan on keeping me in here?”

She asked the question quietly, trying to show him that she was open to him. Willing to talk. He clearly craved her approval and attention, and Felicity wanted him to think that she was starting to get it. It was the only way she could think of to keep him calm. If her plan was to buy herself time, then she needed Joe to be distracted and untroubled. If he got nervous, if he panicked...well, she didn't really want to think about what might happen.

Talking to him seemed to do the trick...so long as she was cautious with her words.

“As long as it takes," he mumbled lowly. 

“As long as _ what _takes?”

He stared back at her through the glass, each of them still. “For you to see how off course your life has gone.” Joe’s eyes darkened, “for you to see how dangerous it is for you to be involved with that vigilante.”

_ Frack. _

_ Maybe silence would have been safer. _

Felicity watched him. And Joe watched her right back. She pushed all of her instinctive, snarky comments aside, deciding it was better to make him talk instead. “Why don’t you tell me then? Can’t good people do some bad things for the right reasons?” Given that he was claiming he kidnapped her for her own good, Joe _ had _to agree with that.

On the other side of the glass, he chuckled, and Felicity flinched at the sound. “I dated a writer in New York...she said the same thing. That people can’t just be good or bad. That everyone has a dark side, and it’s always ugly.”

Felicity forced a smile. “Well, she sounds like a smart woman.”

Joe’s smile flickered and fell, his eyes dropping away from her for the first time since he approached. 

“She was.”

* * *

Oliver’s head was in his hands. Lance asked the question again. 

“We’ve been over this,” Oliver grumbled, really starting to regret their decision to reach out to Quentin. He’d been answering the detective’s questions for almost an hour, mostly about Felicity’s job, their relationship, and her place on Team Arrow.

God, even hearing Felicity call them ‘Team Arrow’ would be welcome right now.

But right now, Lance was fixated on their daily routine, which Oliver had explained. Twice already.

“Listen,” the detective narrowed his eyes, no more pleased about this newfound partnership than Oliver was. “If all we’re hitting is dead ends, and one of the most well known and well respected CEOs of this city has really been _ kidnapped_, then I’m going to need to utilize some resources at the SCPD.”

Oliver glared. Getting the police involved meant alerting the media, and that could cause more harm if whoever was holding Felicity got spooked. They didn’t have enough information yet. “She wakes up, takes about an hour to get ready for work. Then she leaves for Smoak Tech. Sometimes she comes home for lunch and I meet her,” Oliver swallowed, trying very hard and failing very hard to keep his emotions out of this. “But most of the time she ends up working through it and I have something delivered for her. She’s at the office most of the day. Monday through Friday.”

“You said she’s been across town lately, working on the clinic? How long has she been doing that?” Lance asked all of his questions calmly, cooperating now that he knew that Oliver Queen was the Arrow. But it was obvious that it wasn’t an answer Lance was pleased to discover. 

In fact, Oliver might be the last person that Quentin hoped to find under the hood.

“About a week,” Oliver wrung his hands together, his patience almost at its boiling point. “She spent every morning at the clinic this week, making sure that the tech is working correctly. Then she goes back to the office.”

Lance nodded, jotting notes in his small notebook that made him look way too much like a cop out of an 80’s movie. “Does she stop anywhere?”

Pausing, Oliver considered the question. “She has a few places she likes to get coffee. I’d say she stops at one of them every morning.”

“Can you tell me where?”

Oliver’s eyebrows furrowed, frustration bubbling from his chest as he asked, “what does it matter where she buys her coffee, detective?”

Not blinking, Quentin stared Oliver down. “Because,” he deadpanned, “I’m looking for anything out of the ordinary. Any kind of change in her routine, which you’re telling me there was, just this week. Now can you please let me ask the damn questions so we can find your girl?”

His girl. 

As bizarre as it was, especially in the context, hearing someone call Felicity that made Oliver relax, ever so slightly. “You think what happened has something to do with the clinic?”

Quentin huffed, agitated that Oliver was still asking questions. But he needed to know. He’d storm every damn building on that side of town if he had to. “I think it’s much more likely that whatever shit _ you _dragged the woman into is the reason for this, but…”

Oliver visibly winced, the words hitting on exactly what he’d been trying not to think about. That spiral of self-blame could come later. Right now, Felicity needed his head focused. Clear. 

The detective must have realized he’d struck a nerve. He sighed, and when Oliver glanced up, he actually looked a little remorseful. “We’re going to find her, all right, Queen?”

Oliver nodded once.

Without another word, Lance stood up from the couch and wandered towards Felicity’s kitchen. Standing up, Oliver followed him to the table where Diggle was sitting, searching book stores in the area. They were trying to see if any of them sold rare books like the one they’d found in Felicity’s bag, grasping at straws for any kind of information that might help.

It was already getting brighter outside; everything on the quiet street lighting with dawn. Oliver clenched his jaw, reminded that he hadn’t slept in over twenty four hours, and he was physically and emotionally exhausted. It also reminded him, much more importantly, that it had been eleven hours since he had last seen Felicity. And he hated every second of this. More than anything he had ever had to endure before.

“How close are we?” Oliver asked.

In response, John sighed. “There are ten book stores in the area near Smoak Tech. And five more around the clinic. None of their websites boast any kind of rare collector’s editions of books like this.” He shook his head, turning to look at Oliver. “I’m not sure what else to do besides call each of them up and ask if they recently sold _ Ozma of Oz _ to a quirky blonde."

The most frustrating part was that their lead on the book might mean absolutely _ nothing _ in terms of what happened to Felicity. For all they knew, it could be a complete waste of time trying to find out where Felicity bought the book. And even though Oliver’s gut was telling him to follow the lead, he had no idea if that instinct was _ right_, or if he was just desperate for something that would help.

“That’s a good idea,” Lance chimed in from across the room, looking around Felicity’s kitchen. “Mr. Diggle, you can narrow down the list and give us some possibilities to check out. In the meantime, I’d like Mr. Queen to show me around Smoak Tech. I’ll need to get a feel for the employees, anyone who might have had a problem with Ms. Smoak.”

“No one has a problem with her,” Oliver crossed his arms, hearing the defensiveness in his own voice. “Doing that will just be a waste of _ time_.”

“No, Oliver,” Quentin snapped back. He pointed a finger at his chest, narrowing his eyes once again. “The only thing wasting time right now is you, arguing with everything I say and not letting me do my job. You didn’t trust me or want me to know you’re the vigilante. I get that, okay? But you still wanted to work with me because you know I'm good at what I do. So shut the hell up and let me do it!"

“Hey!” John tried to get their attention, but Quentin and Oliver were both too distracted with their feud.

“Listen,” Quentin continued, ignoring him, “I’m not exactly _ thrilled _that you’re the guy under that hood, but I don’t want Ms. Smoak to pay for it. So why don’t we just—”

“Hey!” Diggle yelled louder, demanding their attention this time.

Oliver and Quentin stopped glaring at each other long enough to glance at John. He raised his eyebrows, tipping his chin towards the kitchen window. Oliver’s eyes followed his friend’s movement, catching sight of Felicity’s neighbor standing in her lawn.

She was an elderly woman with long white hair who Felicity adored but often avoided. Sweet and friendly from the stories Felicity told him, but undeniably bored since her husband died just a few months before Felicity moved into the townhouse across the street. 

And like most people, the woman had taken a quick and loyal liking to Felicity. 

Mrs. Harris stood in the middle of her bed of flowers, still in her nightgown with a watering can in her hand. As Oliver watched, she glanced at him through the window repeatedly, meeting his eyes every few seconds while she pretended to water her garden. It was obvious that she had been watching him and Quentin yell at each other.

And it was way too early for Mrs. Harris to be up. 

Since he’d spent many nights sneaking into or out of Felicity’s place, Oliver knew how to avoid her nosy neighbor. Moving quickly, he headed for the door. He ignored John and Quentin’s protests while his racing heart drove him across the lawn, across the street, until he was standing in front of Mrs. Harris.

He had only heard wonderful things about the woman from Felicity; the kind of neighbor who always waved and occasionally left cookies on your doorstep if she made too many. But he had never had the pleasure of meeting her himself. No matter how careful he and Felicity had been about keeping their relationship private though, Oliver was certain that the older woman recognized him as he approached.

“Hi,” Oliver gave Mrs. Harris a kind smile, trying to be friendly as he wrestled with the intense, terrified feelings that weighed on his heart. “I’m Oliver Queen. I’m a friend of Felicity’s.” He offered his hand, and the woman assessed him for one short moment before removing her gardening gloves and shaking his hand.

“Oh, I know who you are, Mr. Queen,” the woman answered calmly. “I raised six children,” she raised an eyebrow at him. “You two lovebirds aren’t nearly as sly as you think you are.”

“Oh…”

“Miss Smoak is much more chipper when she says ‘hello’ some mornings. Usually it’s when I notice _ your _car parked down the street.” Mrs. Harris tucked her gloves under her arm, shaking her head as she moved away from him. “She’s a lucky woman to have a man like you putting that extra bounce in her step.”

Ignoring the pointed comment, and the responsive blush that he could feel warming his cheeks, Oliver took a step closer. “Mrs. Harris...have you seen Felicity? Do you have any idea where she could be?”

The older woman cocked her head to the side, “you don’t know where she is...?” Oliver pursed his lips, shaking his head in response. “I was afraid of that," Mrs. Harris sighed, her eyes slipping shut. "There was a man standing out here on the sidewalk last night,” she gestured towards a tree at the edge of her lawn. “I didn’t think much of it the first time I noticed him, but an hour later when I looked out again, he was still standing in the same spot.” Oliver’s heart sank as Mrs. Harris continued, “it made me uneasy...I didn’t know why he was standing outside of my house like that. I called my friend and she said she’d swing by just to see if it would scare him off...but he was gone before she got here.”

“What was he doing?” Oliver asked quietly. He already knew the answer though, and it made him feel like he was about to be sick.

He couldn’t look away from the older woman. “I thought he was just resting under my tree, that maybe he didn’t have a home,” Mrs. Harris explained. “It never occurred to me… I was up all night thinking about it because something just seemed _ strange _about him. I didn’t realize until I saw you gentlemen arguing in there,” the woman sighed, shaking her head. “The whole time he was standing out here...he was watching Miss Smoak’s house.”

As another piece of their horrifying puzzle fell into place, Oliver had to swallow back the bile rising in his throat. He _ needed _to focus, to stay calm and rational for Felicity’s sake. And yet, oppositely, there was a part of him that felt like he was about to lose all of his control.

Luckily, Lance stepped in, appearing from behind him. He offered his hand to Mrs. Harris in greeting. “My name is Detective Lance with the SCPD. Ma’am, do you think you would be able to describe the man you saw last night to a sketch artist?”

Mrs. Harris considered it, and then she nodded. “I got a good glimpse of his face. If you think he did something to Miss Smoak, then of course. I think I can do that.” Her eyes flickered back up to Oliver, that knowing look in her hard gaze. “If anyone can find Miss Smoak,” she said slowly, “it’s you. You do what you have to do...bring her home safe.”

Oliver nodded once, swallowing as he realized what she was implying. Why she was speaking to him, and how she knew what he was capable of. 

Apparently it didn’t matter how discreet they thought they’d been… _ Nothing _slipped past a nosy neighbor who had raised six children.

“That’s great,” Quentin answered. “I’ll make a call.” He placed a hand on Oliver’s shoulder, anchoring him. Oliver met the detective’s eyes, and for a brief moment, at least until they got Felicity home, the two agreed silently to call a truce. Lance recognized that Oliver was worried sick. And Oliver recognized that Lance wanted to help. The rest of their issues could wait. They would have to.

From Felicity’s doorway, Diggle called out to them. “I think I found something! You’re going to want to see this.” He waved, ushering them over.

Oliver turned back to Mrs. Harris as he went, jogging backwards. “And about what you said before…?” His secret had been safe with her for this long already, for however long the woman had known. And she hadn't turned him in yet. Oliver also recognized that he should probably care more about it, but he just didn't have the room in his head or his heart to worry about himself.

Mrs. Harris lifted her chin. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she answered with an innocent shrug. “Just get the son of a bitch.”

_ He planned to. _

* * *

Felicity swallowed, knowing that pushing Joe for answers wasn’t a smart choice. But she couldn’t stop herself from asking. “She died?”

His nod in response was slow, his eyes trained on her, taking in her every reaction as if she was under a microscope. Felicity took a steadying breath, careful not to let him sense her fear. He _ had _to believe that she wasn’t afraid of him. He had to believe that she was open to him. Sympathetic and understanding. He had to believe that one day, she would learn how to trust him.

To _love_ him.

If Joe knew that he terrified her, Felicity knew that he wouldn’t see anything else. And she would probably end up dead as a result.

For all of those reasons, she didn’t _want_ him to tell her about his ex in New York. But she needed to know what she was in the middle of. The kind of man that was standing in front of her. She needed to know _who_ she was dealing with in that moment.

Uneasiness was already taking root in her stomach. Joe’s ex-girlfriend was dead. Did she really want to know, while she was trapped in a basement at his mercy, if he was capable of murder? 

Felicity reached out to place her palm on the glass, right over the spot that Joe was touching. He sucked in a breath, his eyes widening as she offered him a small smile. Their hands pressed to the glass distracted Joe, his attention flickering down to the connection. And it was exactly the distraction she was hoping for. Throwing him off his game. 

Felicity was barely hanging on by a string, unsure if she even wanted to know, but still, she asked… “What happened to her?”

Joe’s eyes flickered up, the tips of his fingers grasping at the glass between them. “I don’t want to talk about her. I moved here to get away from all of it.”

_ He ran. _

Felicity’s brain wasn’t quite ready to accept what her heart was already starting to understand.

“But what went wrong?” Felicity asked, her voice hoarse. “Between the two of you?”

Joe glanced down at their hands again, his index finger rubbing over the glass where her palm was pressed. But his eyes were somewhere else, lost in whatever memory she was forcing him to remember.

Every logical piece of her mind began to slip away; the ones telling her to be careful, to watch what she said, to tiptoe around this man. Instead, Felicity felt nothing but a desperate need for answers. And fear in the pit of her stomach. _What did he do to her?_

“Beck was beautiful and brilliant but she just—she was indecisive, and patronizing, and she had the _ worst _friends.” Joe sighed, “I had to push her so hard to make her see her full potential. And I think in the end...we both realized that she wasn’t the person I thought she was.”

Staying quiet, Felicity considered his words. To her, Beck sounded like a normal girl who couldn’t live up to Joe’s expectations. She’d disappointed him...

“I think that’s what made me notice you,” he continued, gazing up at Felicity as he pressed his forehead to the glass. “You’re not like that… You know who you are and what you want out of life. You're different.”

She shook her head, whimpering back, “I’m not perfect.”

Joe chuckled, “Of course not. No one is, but that doesn’t change what I see, Felicity. Between _ us. _ And someday I think you’ll see it too.”

Of course that was never going to happen. Even if he hadn’t kidnapped her the same day they met, and even if her heart didn’t already belong to someone else, Felicity knew that she’d never _ feel _something for Joe. Never in a million years. Not if he was the last man on earth. No way.

“This place, Felicity...it strips everything else away. All the white noise, the distractions, the lies. There’s nothing here but you, me, and the truth. Trust me, it will help you once you let it. You just have to let it open your mind. I’ve seen it happen.”

Earlier, he had said that he spent a lot of time in the glass room, but Felicity had a feeling that he wasn’t talking about himself. “Was Beck here?" She blurted, horrified. "Oh god...did you _put_ her in here?”

The question slipped out on its own. And Joe's reaction was instant, his jaw tightening, his eyes growing dark. Felicity knew that she couldn’t take the words back, but for a brief moment, she wished that she could. 

“I told you, I don’t want to talk about Beck.”

But Felicity's tendency for word-vomit had taken over. And she needed to know. More than anything, she needed an answer. She stepped closer, adjusting her hand on the glass as her face hovered inches above his. And he stared up at her, earnest. His eyes were begging her, or warning her, not to go there.

“Did you lock her in here, Joe? Just like you're doing to me?”

He shook his head, shutting his eyes. “It wasn’t _ like _that… I just needed her to understand…”

“What happened to her?” Felicity breathed.

Joe squeezed his eyes shut tighter, shaking his head harder as if he was trying to shake the memories out of it. “I told you she was a writer. She wrote. This place, it—it opened up a whole world for her, Felicity! Beck’s best work was done right here! Right where you’re standing! It finally gave her everything she ever wanted!”

And Felicity recognized the signs of a guilty conscience. Buried sins. Her heart sank to the floor. 

Beck had been here.

Just like her.

“Where is she now?” Felicity asked breathlessly, and Joe deflated. _“Where is Beck?” _

He shook his head in response, unwilling to answer. 

“Oh my god,” Felicity stumbled back, her hand slipping from the glass as she wrapped her arms around herself protectively. “What did you do?"

As she stared at him with wide eyes, he hung his head, avoiding the look of pure horror that she couldn’t mask anymore. For the first time since Felicity found herself in this nightmare, her eyes began to prick with tears. 

“You have to let me out of here,” Felicity shook her head, her hand covering her mouth to hold back the sobs that wanted to escape. “Joe, please...please. You don’t want to do this.” A shiver wracked her frame, her body trembling.

"I can't let you go, Felicity...not until you _understand_."

"What did you do, Joe!?" Felicity wailed, her vision blurry with tears, her heart heavy with panic. "What did you do to her!?"

“I killed her!” Joe screamed back, his hands clutching the glass. He looked up at her with dark, cruel eyes. The confession hung between them. Felicity wasn't breathing, and all she could hear was Joe's labored breaths. “I killed Beck," he whispered.

“Oh _ god, _no...” Felicity gasped for air as she fought against her panic. She swallowed the lump in her throat. Her situation had never looked more catastrophic than it did now. “Please let me go. Joe...you need to let me out of here. I'm not like her—I'm not... Why are you doing this? _Please_.”

With the truth about Beck seeping into her head and heart, Felicity didn’t know what else she could do. It wasn’t a matter of outsmarting him. He wasn’t a criminal that she and the boys could work together to defeat. 

Although Joe was right about one thing. This place stripped everything away, leaving her vulnerable. Here, there was nothing but her, him, and the truth.

He _was_ Bluebeard. He was a monster...

* * *

As they pulled up in front of the bookstore, Oliver scanned the street. He felt strange without his leather on, but they were in the middle of the Glades, and it was almost 7:00 A.M. 

Diggle got out of the car and approached the storefront, peering inside the darkened windows. “This is definitely it. They don’t sell rare books, but the website said they can refurbish them.”

Oliver sighed, taking in the street again. “This place just opened earlier this month, it’s near the clinic, and it’s the only bookstore in town that could possibly have collectors’ editions like the one Felicity had in her bag.” It was far from evidence, and he prayed to god that he wasn’t senselessly reaching for answers that weren’t there.

“Detective Lance will be done with Mrs. Harris and the sketch artist soon,” John reminded him. “Maybe one of the employees at this place matches the description.”

Oliver didn’t answer, walking up to the front door and pulling on the handle instead. “Locked,” he mumbled to himself, unsurprised. But they didn’t have time to find the building’s blueprints before they left to figure out the best way inside. And they didn’t have Felicity to work her magic and get them in. Which left them with only one option. Oliver put his hand over the door handle, glancing down the street and then back at Diggle. He was about to break the lock, applying just the right pressure in just the right spot to make the metal snap, but then John grabbed his jacket, yanking him backwards. One look through the window, and Oliver willingly allowed John to drag him out of sight.

Inside, a young, thin man with dark hair was walking up from the back hallway. He didn’t notice them outside, thank god, and Oliver and John watched as the man crossed the room and pulled a pair of keys off a hook behind the checkout counter. As soon as he had them, he turned back the way he’d come, heading for a door at the end of the long hallway.

But after a few steps, he stopped, gripping the keys in a tight fist as he bowed his head. 

It was impossible to deny that the man fit the brief description that Mrs. Harris had given them. And he wondered if whatever the sketch artist sent them would be a perfect match with the face in front of them. Or if all of this was meaningless. If they were wasting their time. _Felicity's_ time. 

Oliver’s instincts were telling him that the person inside was the one they were looking for. The one Mrs. Harris had seen outside Felicity’s house last night. But again, he was struck with doubt, hesitation like he’d never felt before. What if he was projecting? What if that man had nothing to do with this? Or, what if he did, and Oliver made the wrong move?

The wrong move could get Felicity killed.

“Dig…” Oliver turned to his partner, completely lost.

As John looked back at him, he nodded once, words unnecessary. “Go around back,” he instructed. “I’ll call Lance and cover the front.”

With a sigh of relief and a plan, Oliver followed Dig’s lead, rushing around the side of the building and looking for another way in. 

The first thing that caught his eye was a storm cellar door at the back of the alley. Oliver moved to it quickly, stopping a few feet away when he heard voices just inside.

He froze. Listening.

“Wait, no!” A voice called out, muffled behind the heavy iron door. “I can’t let you go...get back here!”

Oliver’s hand was already on the door, but when he heard a woman’s voice cry out in pain, and when he immediately recognized it as Felicity’s, he had the rusted storm cellar open in an instant.

As soon as the door opened, Felicity came flying up the steps, running straight by without even noticing him. She was too focused on the mouth of the alley, on getting to safety, on her _ escape. _

And Oliver didn’t have a chance to grab her, to tell her that he was there, because right on her heels was the man from the bookstore.

As soon as he scrambled to the top of the steps, Oliver reacted, relying on the instincts that he’d been so hesitant to trust just a few minutes ago. He swung his arm out, his elbow colliding with the assailant’s throat, effectively clotheslining him. And then Oliver watched as he fell back, stumbling from the top of the steps to the bottom. He watched as Felicity’s attacker groaned in pain, struggling to get the air that had just been knocked out of him.

Taking his moment to spare, Oliver glanced up to the end of the alley, relief flooding him as he saw Felicity reach it just as Diggle came around the corner, and she crashed into their partner’s arms with a surprised yelp.

Her voice enlivened him, echoing down the alley as she rushed to explain to Dig that she was okay. “Where’s Oliver?” Felicity gasped, twisting in Dig’s embrace to search for him. “Where’s—” she noticed him then, her eyes widening as he looked back at her from the storm cellar entrance. Oliver took a step in her direction, wanting to be the one holding her, needing to see that she was okay, but movement in the basement caught his attention.

The man had made it to his knees, crawling away from the stairs. And Oliver saw nothing but tunnel vision. Nothing but _ red. _ This was the owner of the voice that had just been yelling at Felicity, trying to stop her from getting away. It was the monster who had stalked her, hurt her, _ taken _her. And Felicity had been running from him...running for her life.

Jumping over the staircase entirely, Oliver landed on his feet and grabbed the man before he could slither too far. He flipped him, dropping him onto his back on the concrete floor. In the back of his mind, Oliver knew that his control was slipping. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt _ rage _as deep as this, if ever. 

Without a thought in his mind, Oliver kicked the guy in the ribs. And the snap he heard as a result was _ so _satisfying. 

Pitifully, the man screamed, writhing in pain. He curled his arms around his stomach to protect himself. 

If this was any other criminal, any other crime, it would have been the moment that Oliver eased up.

He didn’t kill. He worked with detective Lance. He helped the police to put bad people behind bars.

None of that stopped Oliver from pressing his foot against this man’s throat, pinning him to the floor as he stepped hard enough to stop his air. 

And for the first time, their eyes met. Oliver had no idea what Felicity’s stalker saw staring down at him, but his eyes widened in fear, as if _ he _ was the one looking at a monster, rather than the other way around.

Desperately, the man’s hands came up to grab Oliver’s ankle, trying to shove him off, but Oliver pressed down even harder. His face was turning red with the effort to save himself. After a few seconds, he stopped struggling entirely and simply tapped on Oliver’s shoe with one hand, like he was asking for mercy.

Unfortunately for him, in that moment, Oliver didn’t have any to give.

Every emotion that he’d been ignoring and suppressing for the last twelve hours came crashing to the surface, making it impossible for him to feel any sympathy for the man dying at his feet. All he could do was stare, watch the life slowly fade from his eyes. 

And Oliver wanted him to die.

He really did.

No, he didn’t just want him to die.

He wanted to _ watch _him die.

“Oliver!” He heard Felicity’s voice, coming from the alley upstairs. “Let go!” She was yelling. And for a moment he thought that she was yelling at _him_, telling him to stop. He lifted his foot, releasing the pressure on her stalker's throat. “John," Felicity cried, "let go of me!”

It was just enough to break his concentration, to make him loosen the weight of his foot on the man’s throat. As soon as Oliver eased up, the man sucked in a deep, needed breath. And then he grabbed Oliver’s foot with both hands and shoved as hard as he could.

Oliver stumbled, surprised by the force of it. He righted himself quickly though, before he got knocked over. But instead of grabbing the man again, he was distracted by the light coming from the center of the room.

There was nothing more aside from the light on the ceiling, and the glass case beneath it. Oliver’s first thought was that it looked like a detainment cell. But unlike any prison he had seen, there was _ stuff _everywhere inside the case. Books were scattered across the floor, a lamp, a chair. Aside from the mess and the bizarre glass enclosure, it looked like a cozy library.

And then it hit him...who must have been inside.

“What the hell?” Oliver gasped.

In the next moment, he was tackled to the ground, pinned beneath Felicity’s kidnapper, who apparently had gained his second wind to fight back. Only because Oliver was disoriented, he managed to land two decent blows. And that was all the guy got before Oliver swiftly flipped the tables. 

Clearly, this asshole relied on vulnerabilities and unsuspecting victims to feed his sick obsession. But if the cards weren’t in his favor, it was a pathetic fight. Oliver’s experience and strength quickly overpowered his attack, and he had him pinned on the floor with his hands behind his back in a matter of seconds.

Breathing heavily, Oliver paused with his knee pressed against the man’s spine. He tightened the grip around his wrists, pulling his arms just enough to pop his shoulder out of place. Oliver dug his knee in harder, ignoring the man’s howls of pain. “What did you do to her?” He growled in his ear.

In response, Felicity’s stalker whimpered, “nothing, nothing!” He cried, “I let her go! I didn’t touch her!”

Oliver heard heavy footsteps above them, and he knew it was Lance without having to look. He tipped his chin down, “that better be the truth...because you’ll be dead if it’s not.”

The man cried out again, squeezing his eyes shut as detective Lance caught up to them. “Joe Goldberg,” he announced the man's name, putting a hand on Oliver’s shoulder and nudging him off. As Oliver moved, Quentin took over, roughly grabbing _Joe_ by his arms and yanking him to his feet. “You’re under arrest for the kidnapping of Felicity Smoak...and I’m sure a number of other crimes.”

Letting out a deep breath, Oliver watched as Lance cuffed the guy, knowing that it was only a matter of time before the police linked him to something else, somewhere else. The stalking, the fact that he had practically made Felicity vanish into thin air, the glass cell...it was all very premeditated. And very obvious that this wasn’t the first crime he had committed. 

“He’s the vigilante,” Joe shouted, squirming to look back at Oliver while Lance pushed him up the stairs. “He has to be. That’s him, that’s the Arrow!”

“Huh,” detective Lance deadpanned. And then all of a sudden, Joe’s face was shoved into the wall, Lance’s hand gripping the back of his neck. “You make an accusation like that again, and you just might find yourself in maximum security."

"What?" Joe gasped, clearly confused. "I'm telling the truth!"

Lance scoffed, "sure. Keep talking, kid. Maybe a padded cell sounds better than maximum security?"

“Exactly where he should be, anyway,” Oliver mumbled under his breath, glancing one more time at the sickening glass room where he guessed his girlfriend had just spent the night.

When they reached the top of the stairs and stepped back out into the alley, Felicity and John were nowhere in sight. But he could see Lance’s cruiser on the street ahead, and he nodded once to the detective, telling him to get the Felicity-obsessed lunatic out of there because he knew she wasn’t far.

Just as they reached the mouth of the alley, Quentin getting ready to load Joe Goldberg into the backseat, Oliver caught sight of his partners. John and Felicity stood next to John’s car, waiting. 

Felicity was standing in front of Diggle, wearing the larger man’s jacket to keep her warm, making her look even tinier than she already was. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her face pale and her ponytail messy as she glared up defiantly at Dig, clearly still pissed at him for not letting her go running back into that basement.

Her eyes flickered to where Oliver stood, and her face instantly crumpled when she saw him. 

Seeing her eyes fill with tears, Oliver froze, his chest suddenly feeling heavy with the weight of everything they’d been through in just one night. And the weight of his relief. 

It stopped him in his path, his feet heavy as his whole body was hit with a wave of exhaustion. “Hey,” Oliver whispered, catching his breath.

And then all of a sudden, Felicity ran, seeming to understand that he was simply _ stuck_.

She crashed into him, her arms wrapping around him as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. Oliver let out a deep, calming breath as he closed his eyes and leaned into her. His arms wound around her waist, his lips finding her hair.

They hugged each other tightly, Felicity keeping him on his feet as much as he was holding her steady, too. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” Oliver mumbled into her ear. “Oh, Felicity. I’ve got you. I’m right here, baby. I’ve got you.” The gentle words continued to fall from his lips, working to comfort both of them at once.

She gave a small whimper in reply, her nose rubbing against his throat as her hands gripped the shirt on his back, pulling him closer. 

“Felicity!"

She yelped at the sound of Joe’s voice, and Oliver instantly stiffened.

"You stayed...” 

Oliver growled at Joe's words, turning his head to level the stalker with a look that threatened _murder_. But he kept his back to the cruiser, turning his torso and cradling Felicity closer, keeping her out of Joe's sights.

Then they heard the door slam shut. Joe yelled her name again, muffled from inside the car. And Oliver held Felicity closer, safe between his arms until he heard Lance drive off, taking Joe away to rot in a cell like he deserved.

In the silence that followed, he slowly pulled back, his hands reaching up to cup her face. Oliver looked down at his girlfriend, his eyes combing over her face, seeing that she was okay. He told her the only thing he’d been dying to tell her for the last twelve hours, the only thing that mattered. “I love you so much,” he told her softly.

"I love you, too," Felicity returned it with a shaky laugh. She pushed up onto her toes, gripping his neck for balance as she pulled him down for a kiss. “I love you,” she said again, words mumbled against his lips. “God, Oliver, I…I can’t imagine losing you.”

“Shh,” he stroked his thumbs across her cheekbones. “You’re not going to lose me,” his lips brushed against hers as he spoke. “And you’re not getting rid of me easily, okay?”

Opening her eyes, she looked up at him, staying just where she was. “I don’t ever want to be without you.”

Oliver nodded seriously, understanding exactly what she meant.

It was more than what happened. It was more than Joe. 

There wasn’t a single moment since he met Felicity that he wasn’t happy to be in her presence. And when she wasn’t near him, he missed her like crazy. He was content with her. Always. With Felicity, he was at peace. She brought light to his life, to all the darkest parts of him.

“Felicity,” he sucked in a breath, biting his lip as he remembered what he had almost done. “Down there, when I was alone with him, for a minute—I—I would have...”

She nodded in understanding, already knowing what he was about to say. Knowing just what he was trying to confess. 

“It’s okay,” Felicity whispered, the truth reflecting in her eyes._ I know you would have killed him. But you didn’t. _

“He’s going to go to jail for a very long time..." Felicity assured him. Confident in that. "Which reminds me, I have to talk to detective Lance. Joe, um, he told me something, about a girl in New York that I think the police will probably want to know. His ex… Joe killed her, Oliver.” Her wide eyes met his, and he froze. “And he got away with it. We should go down to the station. It’s important. Like, murder confession important.”

Running his hands up and down her arms, Oliver shook his head, ”We’ll call Lance in the car and let him know to check into it, and we can go to give them your statement later. Right now, you and I could both use some rest.”

Felicity sighed, her arms winding around his waist as she nodded in agreement. Oliver draped one arm over her shoulders, kissing the top of her head as they started moving towards Diggle and the car. “Let’s go home,” he mumbled, breathing her in while they walked slowly.

At his words, Felicity paused, stopping next to the car and pretending that John couldn’t hear them as she explained in a low voice, “Oliver, I don’t think I, um, I don’t really want to go back there…”

It hit her that _ there _was her home. But even the thought of being in her townhouse made her stomach twist into knots. Felicity couldn’t imagine walking through the front door that Joe had slammed her head against, or looking down the hallway where she’d seen him standing in her bedroom. 

And her heart broke as she realized that the townhouse would never be her home again. She let out a sharp breath, “it still doesn’t seem real. I just—the idea of being back there makes me feel like I’m going to be sick and maybe I’ll feel differently tomorrow but right now I don’t even want to think about it, which I know is crazy because I love my home. I love my house, _ we _love my house, and I—I mean, I was ready to ask you to move in with me and now it’s like, wow—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Oliver’s eyebrows furrowed, his hands landing on her shoulders as he turned to face her again. “We’ll go to the loft. You can stay with me.” He gave her a gentle smile, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “I told you, you’re not getting rid of me easily.”

Felicity smiled back, genuine relief washing over her. She let him lead her to where John was waiting, and their partner shook his head, pinching his lips together to keep from smiling as he watched them.

While Dig climbed behind the wheel and started the car, Oliver opened the door for Felicity.

“So,” he leaned down to whisper in her ear as she slipped by him. “You want to move in together?”

She glanced up at him, groaning as she scrunched her nose. “That was really the wrong time to bring that up, wasn’t it?”

Oliver chuckled, shaking his head as he climbed into the backseat beside her. His hand instantly reached for hers, bringing her fingers to his mouth. “I don’t think there’s ever a wrong time for us, Felicity.”

With her body drained of energy but her heart warm, she rested her head on Oliver’s shoulder, blinking slowly. Her eyelids were heavy, and it already felt like she wouldn’t be able to keep them open for the ride to Oliver’s. 

As Dig pulled out onto the street, Felicity met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Thank you,” she mouthed, knowing that Dig had probably done a lot to hold Oliver together in her absence. And a lot to save her, too, even when he’d literally had to hold her back from throwing herself in the middle of Oliver and Joe’s fight.

John nodded, accepting her gratitude with a smile in return. 

Oliver held her hand between both of his, drawing soothing patterns across her palm.

Felicity felt nothing but love from the two people who would do anything for her. The two people who were more like family to her at this point._ Her boys._ She had made the right choice to join them, no matter how crazy it seemed at the time. She made the right choice to trust them. 

Turning her face towards Oliver’s chest, Felicity closed her eyes.

Finally safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and all of your kind comments! I hope you enjoyed it :)  
Let me know what you think!!


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